


The Gun Still Rattles

by RisenPhoenix1403



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Canon-ish, Expanding on a character from a side game, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Mass Effect: Infiltrator, Slow Burn, The Reaper War, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9854567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisenPhoenix1403/pseuds/RisenPhoenix1403
Summary: The turian character from Mass Effect: Infiltrator supposedly met death at the end of his mission. What if he didn't? A captive Systems Alliance biotic grants him a second chance at life amid the turmoil at the start of the Reaper War.





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> While browsing the Mass Effect Wiki, I came across this character. The Turian from the mobile game "Mass Effect: Infiltrator". I've become a rather big fan of turians in general, and thought the poor guy deserved a better ending than a "fade to black lawl he ded" one. The thing with him? Zero backstory other than what he is to the plot of the main game, as well as what happens in his side mission. The plot to the game is interesting enough to flesh out a nameless, backstory-less character and give him a life of his own.
> 
> Still a bit rusty at writing, plus this is my first work for this particular fandom.

Lysan's feet skidded slightly as he took a sharp turn down a narrow hallway. Pulling up his omni-tool, he punched in a command to release medigel and a small amount of stims into his system. That last fight with the ogre mech and its support orcus mechs took more out of him than he had thought. _'Hangar Bay...down this hall?'_ He removed his assault rifle from its mag-grips and continued onward. He had to get out, had to escape Cerberus. They hadn't done anything to him...yet. The scientists in the labs had always been more concerned with the howling biotic in the next cell. She had put up far more resistance than most other test subjects, it appeared, as they hadn't been able to get close enough to her without flinging them around like toys.

 

Finally, he came to a stop in front of a large door panel. He palmed the controls at a large bulkhead and found himself in an empty room, possibly for test subject observation.

 

“Impressive.” The voice, belonging to the Director of the facility, sneered at him. A blast shield dropped, revealing the sadistic man and a small contingent of scientists behind him. “But your run ends here, turian.” He laughed as he tapped at a command console, deploying a large turret.

 

“Spirits,” Lysan growled. This was it. No cover to hide behind, no escape, just death. He closed his eyes and began to hum the Imperial Anthem as the turret whirred and whined to life. Would his unit even know what happened to him? The turret's gunfire was rapid, but, surprisingly, Lysan didn't feel any pain. “What...?” Standing in front of him, arms outstretched, was a small human projecting a barrier field around them.

 

“Come on! I can't hold this forever!” She turned her head to glare at him and jerked it toward the door. He ran, staying within the confines of the woman's barrier field, and the door slammed shut behind them. He set an overload charge to make sure no one could pursue them from the labs and turned to the human.

 

“You followed me?” He looked the woman over, wondering if she was a Cerberus lackey looking to lock him back up. She wore rumpled and tattered Systems Alliance BDUs, and her light hair was tied back in a messy braid. She didn't necessarily _look_ like a Cerberus operative, but he wasn't willing to lower his guard around her just yet.

 

“Only after the big mech blew.” She maintained the barrier as they ran side by side. “When the other prisoners were freed, I hijacked a tactical cloak mod off of a Cerberus sniper and followed you. Figured you were the only other subject they didn't implant with...whatever the hell it is that made all the other prisoners go batshit crazy.”

 

“You're not with them?” Another wave of orcus mechs greeted them and he unleashed a hail of bullets from his Falcon.

 

“Oh hell no!” She looked like she was itching to fight, but she was unarmed and maintaining their barrier. “I was on the Citadel, waiting for a transport to help reinforce nearby colonies after the Bahak system went up. Something hit me and knocked me out. I must have impressed someone somewhere, because the next thing I knew, I was being tied to a lab table.” She gave him a lopsided grin. “I howled like a banshee and managed a pretty decent shockwave to keep them back. Managed to keep them back all this time, too. Wonder if my screaming made 'em think I was crazy.”

 

He hummed his approval as he sent an overload at the last mech standing. “So it was your screaming that kept me up. Glad there's someone in here I can trust.”

 

She nodded and managed to keep pace with his longer strides. “Come on, the hangar's this way.” She took point and led him down the twisting halls of the facility, and he shot down anything that attempted to impede their escape. He couldn't help noticing that her steps began to falter the closer they got to the hangar. “We have to hurry.” There was an urgency to her voice that urged him on. “Can't hold this up much longer.”

 

The door to the hangar was locked. _'Of course it is. Your new biotic ally is about to blow her amp and this is only slowing you down. Spirits, this day just finds new ways to get worse!'_ He began to hack the door and noticed the barrier around them flickering. He smelled salt and metal, mixed with burning fur and electronics, and glanced up from his work to see blood trickling out of the human's nose, then the roar of an enraged alien as the largest krogan he had ever seen began charging them.

 

A cry escaped his companion's lips as she directed the energy of their barrier toward the charging krogan, sending it crashing through an observation window. The door beeped and opened as the woman collapsed. Lysan just managed to catch the woman before cracking her skull on the floor. “Damn it, human. You strained yourself, didn't you?”

 

“Jill,” she mumbled weakly. He looked down at her before sealing the door behind them. “Not-not 'human'. Jill.”

 

“Okay, Jill. We're getting out of here.” A frigate dominated the hangar, surrounded by several shuttles. A shuttle was probably their best bet for getting out alive. With the human woman in his arms, he managed to balance on one leg and tap the door controls with his foot. Once inside, he placed her down gently on one of the benches, looking her over carefully. She wiped at her nose, smearing blood across her face with a whimper.

 

“Overtaxed my amp.” She struggled to sit up and fell back with a pained cry. “Maybe more than overtaxed it.”

 

“I smelled burning electronics and fur, Jill. I need to get you somewhere safe.” He would save her life as she saved his. They would be even, right? He made his way to the pilot's seat and started issuing takeoff commands.

 

“Illium.” His brow plates arched up. That was the last place he would have thought of. “Safe there, not far, full of asari too. Mi-might help.” He glanced back as Jill's eyes fluttered shut, and he piloted the shuttle away from the Cerberus facility. They had enough fuel to reach the planet, at least. One good point to the worst day of Lysan's life as he guided the shuttle to the nearest relay.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rough landing, and Lysan gets some bad news.

 

An alarm jostled Lysan awake, and he slapped his palm against the comm interface to answer the call. “Unidentified Cerberus vessel,” the voice at the other end of the line was harsh, and meant business. “Leave now or be shot on sight.” _'As if any of this could get any worse...'_

 

“I'm not Cerberus, damn it!” He couldn't help the snarling edge to his subvocals. “Second Lieutenant Lysan Faustinius with the 43rd Marine Division, Sixth Platoon. I recently escaped a Cerberus facility and have an injured Systems Alliance soldier on board with a possible blown biotic amp.” He heard shuffling behind him and he turned to see Jill standing in the doorway, clutching her head with one hand while the other tightly gripped the back of his seat.

 

“Gunnery Sergeant Jillian Chandler, Alliance Marine Corps. I can vouch for the turian's story.” She leaned closer to the comm. “Let us dock because it feels like I have a damn troupe of tap dancing elcor prancing around in my skull!”

 

“Docking clearance granted. Proceed to bay Alpha-98.” The voice at the comm seemed more friendly now, with a slight hint of urgency. Leave it to a blown amp to play on the sympathies of the asari. “We'll have a medical team meet you there.” The comm cut out and Lysan slumped back into the pilot's seat.

 

“At least they didn't shoot us.” Jill slid into the copilot seat with a soft groan. “Remind me never to do that again.”

 

He looked over at the woman, seeing how fragile she was next to him. Skin far too soft, no natural armor or weapons, and wearing nothing but the casual Alliance uniform. Yet here she was, sitting next to him and talking. “You should be resting, Sergeant.” His tone remained as neutral as possible, but he could see her lips quirk upward and he heard her exhale sharply through her nose.

 

“That an order, LT?” Her voice was softer than it was any other time he had heard her speak, but not unpleasant to listen to as she teased him. She sank into the seat and let her head rest against the window as he brought the shuttle into the docks. “Thanks.”

 

“I was just going where you directed. We were lucky the fuel cells held out as long as they did.” He sent the shuttle down as gently as he could, for Jill's sake. The door slid open and he looped an arm around her to steady her steps. She gave him a grateful smile and moved an arm around his waist in return. Together, they limped out of the shuttle and into the bright lights of Illium.

 

True to their word, there was a medical team waiting just outside the shuttle. He helped ease her onto a gurney and he watched as the asari and salarian medics whisked her away. “You too, sir,” an asari growled, pushing him down to sit on his own gurney with some force. Did he have to get the one asari medic with krogan genes? “You look like a strong breeze could knock you over.” For once, Lysan didn't argue against medical treatment. He had been running for too long on medi-gel and stims, and Spirits knew how many injuries that infuriating Cerberus agent had inflicted on him before his capture. He leaned back and let the medics take him in, hoping he would spend a little more time with Jill before returning to his platoon.

 

-

 

Lysan focused on his omni-tool as he reclined in his medical bed. He had been in worse shape than he thought, according to the salarian doctor attending to him. Cracked ribs and skull from when the Cerberus agent beat him just before his capture, an infection from untreated gunshot wounds, a fragmented bullet in his thigh, along with dehydration from being held captive for so long. It seemed that he got off easy compared to Jill. Her bed was next to his, the woman coming down from a medically-induced coma while her body healed itself.

 

In the weeks he had been in Nos Astra General, he had received messages from his family and his platoon, both back on Palaven and Taetrus respectively, and all he could do was reassure them of his recovery. Jill hadn't received any calls like this, not that she was in any shape to take them. What little he had been able to uncover about her showed that she was originally from Mindoir and was one of the few survivors from the batarian raid on the colony. He slowly eased himself out of bed and moved to the chair next to hers. “I'm not sure if you can hear me, human – Jill,” he began, his mandibles flicking nervously. “But I want to thank you for saving my life.” His hand slipped into hers and squeezed gently. “I've got no illusions about how it was going to end back there. Maybe both of us would've been dead if we hadn't teamed up.” He sighed and let out a soft keen at her unresponsive form. Then her hand twitched in his.

 

“Fuck,” she murmured. “Feels like the morning after my first shore leave.” Her eyes opened and she tried to focus on him, and he noticed their color for the first time. Brown, like his plates. “What happened?” She squeezed his hand gently.

 

“I, ah, I'm not too clear on the specifics of it,” he stammered, feeling his neck warm, “but I heard your doctors talking about how you almost blew your amp. They fitted you with a new one, I think.” Her hand went back to her amp port and she felt skin and her healing implant. “I think they had to shave the fur around your port to cleanly remove it and install the new one.” Her hand traveled up, feeling the fuzz from the hair shaved away from her head.

 

“Hair, LT. Humans have hair.” She closed her eyes again, and he watched as the Illium sun caught in the reddish gold strands that suddenly turned dark closer to her head. “At least they didn't totally shave my head. Side undercut's not exactly military regulation, though. Pulling it back is going to be a bitch.”

 

“Lysan.”

 

“Hmm?” She looked at him again, ignoring the salarian who had come to check on her.

 

“My name.” His mandibles flared into a grin and she smiled back.

 

“Lysan, huh?” She shot a human in pale blue scrubs a dirty look as he injected something into her IV. “Better'n' LT, anyway.”

 

He was about to reply with another remark when his omni-tool beeped. “I'll let you be now.” He gave her some privacy to speak to her attendant while he tapped in a few commands, and he couldn't help the mournful keen that escaped his subvocals. Taetrus had gone dark? How? He felt a cool, smooth hand with too many fingers find his, and he gripped her hand like a lifeline.

 

“Lys, talk to me. What happened?”

 

He swallowed, his mandibles fluttering. “Taetrus, one of our colony worlds, it went dark, and Primarch Fedorian has declared open war on whoever was behind it.” He couldn't tear his gaze away from the notification from General Corinthus. “My platoon was on Taetrus, helping quell unrest there.” His free hand balled into a fist and slammed into the side of his bed. “My men are gone, Jill!”

 

Her hand left his and reached up to cup his face. “You don't know that.” Amber eyes met brown, and she gently stroked his mandible. “They could still be fighting there, holding on while the rest of your people go in to reinforce them. Just because a colony goes dark, it doesn't mean that it's gone.”

 

“Mindoir?” Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded and bit her lip.

 

“I haven't been back since the raid, but I hear they rebuilt. Lived with an aunt and uncle in Vancouver until I enlisted in the Corps.” His brow plates furrowed and she gave him a small, lopsided smile. “One of Earth's large cities. Maybe one day, I'll show it to you.”

 

He laughed and fought the urge to lean into her touch. “You sure inviting a turian to your homeworld is a good idea? It's barely been thirty years since the Relay 314 incident.” He knew humans still held a grudge against the turians for their part in the incident, but maybe things were changing?

 

All he got from her was a shrug and a yawn. “My uncle would probably have kittens or something. He fought in the First Contact War – Relay 314 incident – whatever we're gonna call it. I say the past is the past. You and me? We're a pretty damn good team together. We pull each others' asses out of the fire, patch each other up, we're more than good. And damn, why are they trying to make me sleep again? I just woke up.”

 

He smiled and reluctantly pulled away from her. Perhaps he was still feeling a bit overprotective after their close call? “You're still recovering. Sleep.” He took her hand and squeezed it one more time before he eased himself back into his bed. He glanced over at her sleeping form, taking in the sight of the soft and even rise and fall of her chest. His thoughts were still with his platoon and Taetrus, but her words helped ease the worry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In therapy, Jill gets the bad news this time around. Then an unexpected offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Sorry about the delay on this. Life kind of beat the everloving crap out of me with a hectic work schedule. But here's the next bit to the story. Enjoy!

 

“You humans have such odd sayings.” Lysan grunted as he performed leg lifts. Five days after Jill had emerged from her coma, both had started physical and biotic therapy, an asari nurse finding it oddly cute that neither wanted to be too far from the other for a long time, and managed to schedule their sessions together.

 

She hummed, her mind focused on lifting a series of small weighted balls with her biotics, an asari therapist hovering nearby to gauge her progress.. “Like?”

 

He laughed and let the human attendant add another ten pound weight to what he was lifting. “I don't know much about human physiology or their reproductive systems, but I doubt your uncle would literally give birth to small domesticated felines.” He watched as the ball she was holding in the air wavered for a moment before dropping with a loud thunk and she cackled with laughter. Other patients and therapists, a mix of all Council races, turned to stare at the odd human for a moment before returning to their exercises, muttering about crazy pyjacks.

 

“Well shit, Lys!” she managed to sputter out and she wiped away tears. “I'm torn between smacking you for putting _that_ mental image in my head and fainting from shock at finding out you've got a sense of humor!” His mandibles flicked out in the turian equivalent of an impish grin. The shortened form of his name had started to grow on him, much like his odd human friend.

 

Commotion from the far end of the room drew their attention, and together, they limped forward to see what it was. All eyes were glued to the large vidscreen dominating one wall of the therapy room. Images flashed of a planet under attack from massive spaceships. All of the humans paled, and Jill brought a hand up to her mouth. Lysan looked down and saw her eyes shining brighter than normal, tears making their way down her cheeks. He swiftly moved an arm around her as they watched the attack on Earth. “Auntie Jun, Uncle Toby,” she whispered, her body trembling. All he could do was pull her closer.

 

The live feed of the invasion suddenly changed to a ground unit, the camera falling to the side as synthetic creatures overwhelmed anything still alive. Some looked like humans, others batarians, but the turian creatures made his subvocals rumble with unease. One of them stepped close enough to the camera where what little remaining of the owner's organic facial plates showed one of the more rare colony markings, Syglar Outpost. Few wore those particular markings. Fewer still wore them in bright green. His second-in-command one of them. The feed mercifully cut out as the Galactic News Network continued with their report.

 

“Come on. I'm getting you out of here.” He picked her up and carried her out of the therapy room. His legs were weak, and he walked with a slight limp still, but he managed to get her back to their room without dropping her. He carefully set her down in bed, but her hand held his firmly.

 

“Don't leave. Please.”

 

“I won't.” He gathered up the blankets and pillows from his bed and set to work making a small nest for them. Once he was satisfied, he carefully moved into the narrow hospital bed. She moved as close as she could, one leg wrapping around his waist while she buried her face against his neck. “I won't leave you, Jill. Promise.” He tilted his head down to press his forehead against hers as she wept for her fallen homeworld.

 

-

 

Sleep didn't come easy for Lysan that night. He had refused to leave Jill alone, the woman having cried herself to sleep hours ago. His mind drifted to the synthetic turian with his second-in-command's face. What happened on Taetrus? His humming subvocals changed from a soothing rumble for Jill's sake to rage. The tech seemed oddly familiar. Where had he seen it before? He shook his head to distance himself from those thoughts. It wouldn't do him any good if he was exhausted for the rest of his PT in the morning. His eyes slid shut, determined to get some rest, until his omni-tool beeped with an alert.

 

Jill shifted beside him and clung closer to his cowl. “Too fuckin' early. Gimme five minutes.” One of her hands flailed out and smacked his wrist with surprising force, causing him to hiss in pain. Lifting her head, she blinked in the darkness. “Shit, sorry!” She ran a hand through her messy hair and grunted. “Can't sleep? You can go back to your bed. I-I think I'll be okay on my own.” She flopped onto her back and gently rubbed the hand she smacked him with on her stomach.

 

“It was just my omni-tool. I can check it in the morning.” He opened up the interface to put all alerts on silent mode and laughed as she continued to soothe her hand.

 

“Anyone ever tell you that you turians are hard motherfuckers?” His mandibles flicked slightly and he shrugged. “Anyway, thanks, Lys. For staying. I-.”

 

The lights slowly turned on and a figure stood in the doorway. “Sergeant Chander?” It was the asari matriarch she had been working with in biotic therapy, Nika. “You have a visitor, a Captain Khouri. I tried to explain to him that you've had a very...trying day with the news reports, but he insisted on meeting you now.” She shot Lysan a look. “Preferably alone. His insistence. I apologize, Lieutenant Faustinius.”

 

Lysan took the opportunity to stand and stretch. “No, probably for the best to meet with this Captain alone.” He limped toward the door. “It'll be good to stretch my legs anyway.”

 

Jill nodded. “Probably. My CO is kind of a hard-ass.” She watched his mandibles flare out and she offered a reassuring smile. “I'll be fine, Lys. 'Sides, you can check that urgent message.” He stepped outside, nodding politely to a man in Alliance dress blues as they passed each other. Jill immediately sat up straighter and saluted. “Captain.”

 

He returned the salute. “At ease, Gunnery Sergeant.” He stood at the foot of her bed in parade rest, a bear of a man with tan skin, dark eyes, and graying hair. “Good to see you in one piece, Chandler, and no worse for the wear from the look of it.”

 

Her lips threatened to tug into a smile at the comment, despite being observed by her commanding officer with enough scrutiny to make her squirm. “Nearly blew my old amp, sir. They certainly didn't teach us how to deal with that in training.” Her fingers itched to trace over the port where her new amp was seated, but she stayed still. “Or how to escape secure Cerberus facilities.”

 

The older man allowed himself a smile at last. “I know you, Chandler. You were never the type to go AWOL. What exactly happened?”

 

“Long story. The short version? I was knocked out on my way to the transport, woke up in some sort of Cerberus lab as they strapped me down to some kind of table, and I managed to escape when all the prisoner cells were hacked, with a little help from my new roommate.”

 

He nodded slowly. “The turian I passed at the door?”

 

“Yeah.” She couldn't help herself and smiled. “Lieutenant Lysan Faustinius. He's the reason my amp got fried in the first place. Held up a barrier field longer than I probably should have. Neither of us would be here now if we hadn't teamed up, though.”

 

“I see.” He paused, and Jill fought the urge to squirm. She knew that Khouri had served in the First Contact War. Turians were always going to be a sore spot for him. “Well, you're alive and in one piece. That's what counts.” He took in a breath, and he seemed to age five years in a few seconds. “I take it you saw the news feeds?”

 

She looked down. “Yeah. With all due respect, I'm in no shape to be on the ground fighting those things, sir. But I want to. I can still shoot straight. Just don't expect any lifts of singularities out of me.” He couldn't expect her to ship out to Earth while she was still getting adjusted to her new amp. Uncontrolled biotics weren't just a liability on the field. They could be a danger to the whole unit. One misfired singularity or shockwave could turn a defensive line of soldiers into easy target practice for the enemy.

 

“I'm not here to take you back to the fight just yet.” He held up a hand to keep her from speaking out. “I have another assignment for you. Here, on Illium.” At this, she shot him an inquisitive look.

 

“I'm listening.”

 

“You were a valuable asset to the crew on the _Logan_ with procurement.” She stared at him, wondering where this was going. “I want you to work with the asari to procure weapons, armor, heat sinks, rations, whatever you can help us get to help our men and women. Commander Shepard was right all this time. It just took us too damn long to realize her warnings about the Reapers were real.”

 

“Reapers? That's what hit Earth? I thought they were like the space version of the boogeyman.” She sat and listened to Khouri explain how the Reaper forces emerged from batarian space, attacked Arcturus Station, and set a course for the Sol Relay.

 

“I was with the Third Fleet when they hit Arcturus. Losing the Second...I had friends who served in the Second Fleet.” Jill lowered her head and prayed silently for the lost – Lysan's men, her family, and now her Captain's friends. “And I have a feeling it's only going to get worse before it gets better.” He straightened up and stood at parade rest again. “I packed some possessions for you, once we were out of the fire and knew where you were. I left the bags with your asari therapist.”

 

“Thank you, sir. It'll be nice to wear something that isn't hospital scrubs for a change.”

 

“You'll also find what you need to act as our requisitions representative here on Illium.” If he noticed her squirming at the thought of her new posting, he didn't mention it. “Good luck, Sergeant.” He saluted her again, and she sat at attention and returned it.

 

“Captain, stay safe out there.”

 


End file.
